


Queens' Balance

by Anonymous



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: F/F, Post-Witch Storm, Same-Gender Relationships, Terreille, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Protocol for two ruling Queens is scant, but it exists, if the student of Protocol knows where to look for it - or how to read between the lines in Protocol that governs one Queen and her court.But the risk in attempting such a thing - in putting one's safety, authority, people, and heart all on the line - is higher than mere Protocol can be found to express.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fawatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/gifts).



As the sound of music and quiet conversation receded behind her, the pinch of Rabiya's dress shoes made itself more insistently known. She sighed out loud: this was the most private part of the Queens' residence, and there was no one to hear her in this wing, except Miri.

And Miri was not in their joint sitting room, but shut behind her study door. The other rooms of the Queens' suite were dark and cool.

Rabiya considered the study door, and her feelings. She had not expected her consort to put in more than a token appearance at the fortnightly social evening arranged for the First Circle and their lovers and friends, but she had hoped that when she returned to their rooms, there would be a warm and welcoming bed to slip into - or that her lover would be awake and available, merely amusing herself until Rabiya returned.

She could go to the end of the hall, where there was a cupboard and a sink, and make Miri a cup of tea with Craft-heated water. A cup of tea was an acceptable tribute whenever anyone interrupted Miri at her work. But Rabiya was not _anyone_ ; formally, she was the Queen of the Province of Lesaor in the Territory of Dhemlan Terreille, and if she went into that study, she would be asked to check Miri's figures, interpret the contents of a letter, or give an opinion on some plan... 

She was too tired.

Rabiya continued past - and then smiled. If Miri wished to stay up late, _she_ could come to a warm bed.

She, Rabiya, would not sleep in her own bed tonight.

It was a playful whim, but also a calculated move. A consort and a Queen did not - according to either good sense or strictest Protocol - share a bedroom. Each needed a space to retreat to. Whenever a bed was shared, a point was made of either invasion or invitation.

And doubly so when Queen was also consort, and consort was also Queen.

Rabiya entered her rooms first, hung up her nicer Court clothes, and dressed for bed. Before Miri, Rabiya had lived in the adjoining suite, and Rabiya's then-Consort had lived in this one. Rabiya had shifted her living quarters partly as a nod to Miri's surface pride - Miri, though a fellow Queen, was her inferior in every other aspect of rank except age, so let Rabiya move - and partly as acknowledgement of Miri's more integral preferences. The psychic tint of _male_ could not entirely be eradicated from these walls. Rabiya found it comforting. Miri found it jarring.

So it was usually Miri's bed, in Rabiya's former rooms, where they had sex.

The door between the women's bedrooms could lock from either side - and had not been locked in several months. Rabiya chose to dwell on that duration, rather than the fight - over Court policy, as always - that had been the reason for the last occasion. Dimming the witchglobe in her chamber, she entered her consort's room in the dark, got under the covers, and closed her eyes.

She woke to a hand on her shoulder. "Mmm," Rabiya said contentedly, her first instinct that she was safe here followed by a waking analysis: the room, and the hand, were warm. Miri might yet kick her out of bed, but the Blood's more dangerous wrath was not in evidence - the cold rage, and winds that blew from the killing edge.

"You're going to have to move over," Miri said.

"Of course," Rabiya agreed, stretching. "See, it's all warm. Come lie down with me."

She closed her eyes again while Miri attended to her own needs, and woke to a somewhat firmer hand pushing her over.

Grinning, she rolled - and took half of the bedclothes with her.

"Rabiya."

"Come and get them..." Rabiya murmured, strengthening her grip on the coverlet with Craft.

"Not tonight," Miri said, gently enough, but with a tone that suggested that, if pushed, she would go on to explain _exactly_ what work had kept her awake, and require Rabiya's opinion on it.

"All right, all right," Rabiya conceded quickly. "A back rub, then? You must be stiff."

"You say that, but it's _your_ chair in that study," Miri retorted.

"Mm, that's why I never used to sit in it. Come here."

Miri got in beside her at last, and Rabiya breathed in her lover's scent.

"We need to talk about the message from Lady Naemi tomorrow," Miri said abruptly.

" _Tomorrow,_ " Rabiya agreed firmly, and kissed the back of Miri's neck.

Miri shut up.

With the men of the court, in earlier sexual liaisons, Rabiya might have flattered herself that her touch - or the privilege of being in her bed - was enough to compel a lover to stop talking, to give himself over to the dance. It was not a game that Miri enjoyed indulging her in. But if Miri did not react to her caress as if a spell, or a psychic weaving, she understood it well enough as a signal.

Rabiya worked her hands across Miri's back, slowly, comfortably, relaxing herself as much as Miri; she fell asleep for the third time in an ungainly drape across her consort's back, and a fourth and last time when Miri re-settled her on the side of the bed that, tonight, was hers again.

She woke before Miri in the morning. She usually did. Miri liked to steal hours after sundown; Rabiya liked to steal hours before dawn, and Rabiya suspected that this tendency had grown in each of them since their handfasting. The increased intimacy of space balanced by a separation in schedule.

Before going down to breakfast, she went into Miri's study. On Miri's desk, there was a tray for items that required Rabiya's attention - just as on Rabiya's desk, there was a tray for Miri. The tray held several slips of paper, and a letter in an envelope. Rabiya took them to read.

After reading, she wished she'd stayed abed and waited for Miri to wake up, or woken Miri with kisses. 

* * *

She wished she'd let trouble come to her, rather than seeking it out. When first she'd risen to the position of Province Queen, she had encouraged her First Circle to bring their concerns to her, rather than seeking out issues that required a Queen's ruling. In the far corners of the Province, she had later learned, this gave her the appearance of being the agent of a male council. But it had worked for her and she had found her feet - while building trust and favour between herself and the males who served her. 

Miri thought it had narrowed her vision and allowed her to neglect the full scope of her responsibilities. Rabiya thought that it had allowed her to settle into her new role with the active support of her Court, as each issue that was brought to her attention personally affected one of her First Circle. Rabiya thought that if she had begun her rule as actively as Miri would have liked, she would have bitten off more than she could chew.

Her methods had worked before - or so she thought. But not now. Rabiya _could_ treat Miri like a member of her First Circle in this way - could encourage Miri to pursue problems independently, and take no interest in that pursuit except when Miri posed her a direct question or gave her a report - but it made Miri unhappy. She was trying to learn to compromise.

She had had the chance of formally accepting Miri's service in her court. She had not taken it. 

Miri had arrived at Rabiya's court in the late autumn, in clothes as drab as the rain and mud that had marked the preceding weeks. She had hidden her caste and her intentions. It was not Rabiya who interviewed her, but Rabiya's housekeeper, Rowena, who was seeking kitchen and household help. 

Rabiya's Master of the Guard, Omer, had realised that the maid was a rival Queen, and alerted Rabiya to the deception. 

She had listened seriously to his concerns, but had not shared them. It was like something out of a story. She could not believe that Miri meant her harm. 

Although she had been proven right, she winced, now, to remember her own naïveté. A deception might be necessary, but that did not make the deceiver one's friend. But Miri had earned her friendship - and more - in time.

"Why did you hide your caste when you joined my court?" Rabiya had asked her directly - with Omer at her side, and Jason, watchful, blocking Miri's exit. Rabiya longed for an honest conversation, just between the two of them. But she would not demand that her First Circle tolerate the risk.

Miri shrugged. "I didn't want to present myself as a rival."

Rabiya let her eyebrows rise. "What did you want?" A pause. "To clean and peel potatoes?" She infused the words with the most delicate disbelief.

Miri's shrug was more uncomfortable. "I don't shy at honest work."

The irony informed the silence. Miri almost visibly squirmed, and Rabiya savoured it. 

"Would you prefer I offered my service to your formally?" Miri asked slowly. "I could serve in your Court." A moment's pause, and then, still diffidently, "Perhaps there is space in your Second Circle..."

Rabiya's court was not large. There were indeed gaps in her Second Circle.

Rabiya let just a touch of amusement flow through her psychic scent. Some witches would have stated that as an ambition. She was getting Miri's measure now, and this instead seemed like a concession - an acknowledgement that Rabiya would not offer Miri a higher position, and for good reason. 

No. It was a rare _witch_ who would offer this up as their ambition. Sisters did not render Court service according to the strict tiers that classified the males. Rabiya wondered how much of Protocol Miri knew.

For a moment Rabiya allowed herself to imagine accepting Miri's personal oath, service offered to Queen and court rather than bound by the simpler practices of employment. Her emotions were locked down, her psychic scent betraying little, but her own emotions confused - and intrigued - her. Why was this a _temptation_? 

The woman in front of her had silver woven through her sandy brown hair, and creases of laughter and worry around her sharp eyes. There was a stubbornness to her that ran deep. It was a Queen's job to read and understand her people; this was the first time Rabiya had spoken to Miri at length, but she was confident in her impressions. That did not explain the appeal of this witch placing her hands under Rabiya's, looking to her for judgment and leadership.

Because she did not understand the temptation, she resisted it. "No," she said lightly, "we will not change the terms of your contract, I think. But are there any other skills you might prefer to use?"

Miri considered her. "I can work with accounts."

Rabiya nodded. "I will ask my Steward if he requires an assistant." With an oblique glance at Omer and Jason to confirm that, if their impressions of Miri were different to hers, the answer that was conveyed back to Miri could be 'no' regardless of whether it was actually the Steward's answer.

But - after a dance around all the tempers of her court, a dance that both fascinated and exhausted her - the answer was yes.

It was hard to remember, now, which had begun first: Miri's visits to Rabiya's bed, or the increasing frequency with which Rabiya's Steward presented her with reports on difficulties and disputes that he had never concerned himself before. 

They blurred together in Rabiya's mind because it was the combination that had felt like a betrayal.

It had been a not-quite shouting match in the formal gardens; Rabiya had found Miri there and had the sickening feeling that she had chosen the wrong battleground. She gave her power to the land, of course, and she enjoyed looking out on trees and flowers. But she did not have a gardener's sense of the land, and perhaps Miri did.

It had not been a shouting match, because that would have drawn the First Circle - right up to the killing edge. But Rabiya sought to challenge Miri in private not out of restraint but out of blind, painful hope. She didn't _want_ this to be what it looked like.

Especially since seducing Miri had seemed like her _own_ idea. It was, after all, a way to balance the men against each other - those who were amenable. A way to keep her Consort in pursuit of her, not the other way around. Perhaps she had still been dazzled by the romance of Miri's unconventional arrival. It had not taken very long at all from learning that Miri preferred women, to wondering if Miri might prefer Rabiya herself... 

And here she was being manipulated by a witch who rolled her eyes at the emotional currents flowing among a Queen and her court, who claimed not to hold with the tactics of threat and flattery.

It had not been a shouting match, because Miri let Rabiya's anger break upon her like so much water rolling on to sand, and said, with defiant exasperation. "If you'd rather the reports come from me, rather than your Steward, I should have a formal reason to give you reports."

Rabiya drew a tight breath. "Do not," she said with venom, "pretend that you have been honest with me. You have opinions about how I run my court and my Province, and you have chosen not to share them with me directly, _because you know you have no right to_. Instead, you attempt to manipulate me by tricking a man I trust into prioritising _your_ priorities."

Miri countered, "Is it my method of bringing problems to your attention what you object to, Lady, or is it the idea that anyone could question your handling of problems?"

There was just enough truth to the barb that it stung. And there was enough unfairness that Rabiya could look Miri in the eye and shoot back, "You have not been honest with me. Try it, before you earn the right to judge me."

She stormed out of the garden. She did not return to the flirtation. For months, she asked no one but her Consort for sex. And Miri began to challenge her decisions directly, in ways that antagonised both her and her First Circle, who did not understand why she heard Miri out and did not rebuke her.

What Rabiya came to understand, over that exceptionally stormy winter and spring, was how it had looked to the Territory when she had been chosen as Queen. Because she had been chosen - formally and properly, with the previous Queen's eventual blessing and the consent of the previous court. And yet, to all except that former court, it had been a quiet, almost furtive matter.

The old Queen was dying. At forty, she was far too young to succumb to the degenerative illness that afflicted her, but no Healer had been able to help her. At the time, the Priestess who selected Rabiya told Rabiya that the old Queen refused to face her own death, and that was why the matter of her successor must be handled discreetly. Rabiya's additional lessons in Protocol occurred at her own home, a village at a significant distance from the residence of the Queen. During her training, she was not introduced to any Blood males or females outside of her village - although they would form her court.

Later, she wondered if it had truly been the Queen who had been unable to accept the fact of her coming death - the same Queen who had left thoughtful, detailed instructions for her, and whose blessing on the Priestess's activities was later evident - or if that had been a polite fiction to spare the feelings of certain males in the First Circle, who had been unable to come to terms with the death of their court's heart.

But in the farthest reaches of Lesaor, all that had been apparent was that the Queen's activities had diminished, she was known to be unwell... and then there was a new Queen, a young Queen, whose First Circle bore little resemblance to that of the old Queen. Whose decisions were therefore suspect, until they were proven.

What Rabiya also came to understand was that just as Protocol was a leash with which to guide and restrain her court, it had a restraining effect on Miri. Miri had the advantage of a decade of age with which to pull rank; Rabiya had her Summer-sky jewel, to Miri's Tiger Eye, and the advantage of a Priestess' training. If she could turn a conversation into a lesson in Protocol, Miri's most direct questions and most forceful suggestions could be softened enough to give Rabiya time to think about them. Miri knew that she was ignorant of Protocol; at times she bluffed past it, but at other times Rabiya used that ignorance as a weakness, pressing on Miri's caution of speaking out of turn according to the oldest rules of the Blood.

Somewhere along the way, Rabiya admitted to herself that Miri's challenge made her a better Queen. Allowed her to believe that because Miri was passionate about the Province, and could see that Rabiya cared about being a good Queen, Miri would support her, and not undermine her.

And by the end of Spring, she was in Miri's bed again, except that this didn't feel like a flirtation.

It was a strength that Rabiya truly took pride in: understanding her own feelings, understanding those of her allies and enemies. She had the gift of a good Queen to soothe the men who served her, even the most volatile Warlord Princes. Her emotional strength matched theirs.

So it wasn't a surprise to herself when she realised it was time to break it off with her Consort. She had fallen in love with Miri.

Her Consort took the news as well as could be expected, which was not well at all. Miri's reaction made Rabiya imagine a pool into which, perhaps, she had thrown a rock. The initial splash and ripple - then nothing but inscrutable quiet.

Rabiya had to bite her tongue that wanted to demand an answer right away. She could manage herself better than that. She allowed herself merely a wry, "Do let me know what you decide," as she got up from the garden where they had been sitting, to give Miri space. Miri nodded, just as wry, and watched her go.

Rabiya was already imagining what she would do when Miri put distance between them again. It was a somewhat irrational plan, beginning with crying on her Master of the Guard's shoulder and possibly involving nut cakes in the early hours of the morning; as two days went by with Miri avoiding her, it got more and more elaborate, and Rabiya's remaining First Circle began to feel the effects of Rabiya's temper.

In fact, when Miri approached her at last, she had snapped most pettily at the member of her court, Darren, who was most likely to snap back and provide an actual fight.

In the doorway, behind Darren, Miri rolled her eyes and retreated. Rabiya patched things up with Darren as quickly as she could and went to find Miri.

"How do you imagine this working?" Miri asked her.

"Two Queens," Rabiya said. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about it. "Each the consort of the other."

"But you remain the Province Queen," Miri pointed out.

"Yes," Rabiya said, unapologetic. "The men have sworn their service to me. I don't suppose you'd like to require their service jointly? Some would offer it."

Miri snorted.

"Are your objections practical, or emotional?" Rabiya asked, reduced to formality.

"I don't think they're so separable," Miri said - the very gentleness a warning sign that she was considering letting Rabiya down gently, that she could not simply be direct. "But I do love you, Lady."

And Rabiya allowed herself to be first delighted, then surprised.

It had only been the beginning of a dance among the Blood of both court and Province - a dance that Protocol had not prepared her for. Officially, a Queen might request sex from any member of her Court, and choose members particularly to provide it. Officially, Rabiya still ruled, and still had the support of the minimum number of Blood males required to form a court. Officially, Miri served her.

But the unofficial truths took a while for the court to accept. The first time Miri publicly disagreed with an opinion of Rabiya's nearly broke the court, and set Warlord against Warlord Prince. A subtler discomfort arose when Lavan, brother to Darren but not a member of Rabiya's court, discovered that Miri was _his_ Queen, a Queen with whom he instinctively and instantly felt a special bond - that did not exist between Lavan and Rabiya. Rabiya was willing to take it in stride. Lavan, too, saw nothing strange in the attraction. Persuading Miri that it was possible to acknowledge the bond without readjusting her life took some time.

* * *

The letter from Lady Naemi had not come from another Territory. It had come from another Realm: Kaeleer.

Although Lady Naemi was not a native of Kaeleer. That was the problem.

Rabiya and Miri - and most of their Province - were of the short-lived races. Once, Dhemlan Terreille had been dominated by long-lived Blood - to the point where that was what was meant when a casual speaker referred to the Dhemlan race.

Once.

Before the witch storm.

Three hundred years ago, easily half of the Blood in the Realm of Terreille had died - and far more than half of the long-lived Dhemlans. The Territory Queen of Dhemlan, Feynna, came from the short-lived races. In all of the Territory, only one Province Queen came of longer-lived people.

The witch storm had been the culmination of uneasy relations between Kaeleer and Terreille - during which some had gone from Terreille to Kaeleer as fugitives, and some had gone as invaders.

And now, it seemed, some were returning.

Lady Naemi claimed to be 500 years old. She claimed that she owned land in the north of Lesaor. The buildings and estates that Lady Naemi named in her letter were not all familiar to Rabiya - perhaps because some buildings no longer stood, or because some of the land had been divided between other families. For Lady Naemi had last set foot on it three hundred and thirty years ago.

A blink of an eye to a longer-lived witch. Generations, to the Blood who lived there now, or to witches like Rabiya and Miri.

Anger and fear rose in Rabiya - both at the content of the letter and the tone. She tried to tell herself that Lady Naemi might have once had a claim to the land, but she had abandoned it - and two ruling Queens would lay out for her clearly and firmly what little was now due to her.

It did not do much to calm her.

Two hours later, it was Miri who woke to Rabiya's temper.

"The _arrogance!_ " Rabiya hissed, pacing in front of Miri in their sitting room. Miri merely raised an eyebrow.

It was a display of temper that Rabiya could not put on in front of her First Circle. A Queen's court took their emotional cues from her, and males of the Blood were, to put it mildly, _reactive_. She had rather hoped that with a Queen as consort, she could occasionally vent her feelings more freely. But that wasn't who Miri was. She was entirely unimpressed with dramatics, and her own reactions ran slow and deep. And Rabiya knew that.

Rabiya came to a halt in front of her fellow Queen. "I don't like her tone," she said more calmly.

Miri nodded. "It is a bad beginning."

Rabiya considered this. 'It would be better," she said slowly, "if Lady Naemi considered this a _beginning_."

Miri nodded, her expression wry.

"So what do you think?" Rabiya asked, beginning to calm herself. She reminded herself that her relationship with Miri had been just such an upheaval - and as fruitful in the end. This was a challenge they would face together, and come out stronger. 

"I think we need to consider her claim seriously," Miri said, and Rabiya's world fell out from under her.

* * *

Neither Rabiya's shock, nor any arguments she advanced in the following weeks, shifted this opinion - while Rabiya struggled to understand how she could hold it. Miri did not budge. 

It shocked Rabiya to realize how much she counted on Miri to advocate for Rabiya's own people. For the people of Lesaor. The descendants of the survivors of Hayll's domination, of the war with Kaeleer, of the witch storm's destruction. Those who had survived to form the people that still flourished here. Those who, despite every attempt to break them, had handed down their traditions unbroken. How could that be set aside - generations of people who had cared for the land that Lady Naemi claimed, who had given it power and blood - on her returning wish?

She didn't know if their difference was because Rabiya had learned the true meaning of her own responsibilities in the last few months of her rule, or because she had discovered a sentimentality, or or a vein of guilt, that Miri would never have admitted was there.

She only knew she didn't know how she could be wrong. And how dire the consequences, of failing to find a way forward, would be.


End file.
